#don know how much I like it she’s
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Diddd some, birds art :)
#jbird's art#bird#birds#autistic art#<- all my art is but like. usually I don’t think it matters#love me some. shore birds :)#think most of these are darter birds#a trumpeter swan too#a heron skeleton#anddd. bearded vulture#normally don water colour#don know how much I like it she’s#it’s okay though
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Tell Your Dad You Love Him
A retelling of "Meat Loves Salt"/"Cap O'Rushes" for the @inklings-challenge Four Loves event
An old king had three daughters. When his health began to fail, he summoned them, and they came.
Gordonia and Rowan were already waiting in the hallway when Coriander arrived. They were leaned up against the wall opposite the king’s office with an air of affected casualness. “I wonder what the old war horse wants today?” Rowan was saying. “More about next year’s political appointments, I shouldn’t wonder.”
“The older he gets, the more he micromanages,” Gordonia groused fondly. “A thousand dollars says this meeting could’ve been an email.”
They filed in single-file like they’d so often done as children: Gordonia first, then Rowan, and Coriander last of all. The king had placed three chairs in front of his desk all in a row. His daughters murmured their greetings, and one by one they sat down.
“I have divided everything I have in three,” the king said. “I am old now, and it’s time. Today, I will pass my kingdom on to you, my daughters.”
A short gasp came from Gordonia. None of them could have imagined that their father would give up running his kingdom while he still lived.
The king went on. “I know you will deal wisely with that which I leave in your care. But before we begin, I have one request.”
“Yes father?” said Rowan.
“Tell me how much you love me.”
An awkward silence fell. Although there was no shortage of love between the king and his daughters, theirs was not a family which spoke of such things. They were rich and blue-blooded: a soldier and the daughters of a soldier, a king and his three court-reared princesses. The royal family had always shown their affection through double meanings and hot cups of coffee.
Gordonia recovered herself first. She leaned forward over the desk and clasped her father’s hands in her own. “Father,” she said, “I love you more than I can say.” A pause. “I don’t think there’s ever been a family so happy in love as we have been. You’re a good dad.”
The old king smiled and patted her hand. “Thank you, Gordonia. We have been very happy, haven’t we? Here is your inheritance. Cherish it, as I cherish you.”
Rowan spoke next; the words came tumbling out. “Father! There’s not a thing in my life which you didn’t give me, and all the joy in the world beside. Come now, Gordonia, there’s no need to understate the matter. I love you more than—why, more than life itself!”
The king laughed, and rose to embrace his second daughter. “How you delight me, Rowan. All of this will be yours.”
Only Coriander remained. As her sisters had spoken, she’d wrung her hands in her lap, unsure of what to say. Did her father really mean for flattery to be the price of her inheritance? That just wasn’t like him. For all that he was a politician, he’d been a soldier first. He liked it when people told the truth.
When the king’s eyes came to rest on her, Coriander raised her own to meet them. “Do you really want to hear what you already know?”
“I do.”
She searched for a metaphor that could carry the weight of her love without unnecessary adornment. At last she found one, and nodded, satisfied. “Dad, you’re like—like salt in my food.”
“Like salt?”
“Well—yes.”
The king’s broad shoulders seemed to droop. For a moment, Coriander almost took back her words. Her father was the strongest man in the world, even now, at eighty. She’d watched him argue with foreign rulers and wage wars all her life. Nothing could hurt him. Could he really be upset?
But no. Coriander held her father’s gaze. She had spoken true. What harm could be in that?
“I don’t know why you’re even here, Cor,” her father said.
Now, Coriander shifted slightly in her seat, unnerved. “What? Father—”
“It would be best if—you should go,” said the old king.
“Father, you can’t really mean–”
“Leave us, Coriander.”
So she left the king’s court that very hour.
.
It had been a long time since she’d gone anywhere without a chauffeur to drive her, but Coriander’s thoughts were flying apart too fast for her to be afraid. She didn’t know where she would go, but she would make do, and maybe someday her father would puzzle out her metaphor and call her home to him. Coriander had to hope for that, at least. The loss of her inheritance didn’t feel real yet, but her father—how could he not know that she loved him? She’d said it every day.
She’d played in the hall outside that same office as a child. She’d told him her secrets and her fears and sent him pictures on random Tuesdays when they were in different cities just because. She had watched him triumph in conference rooms and on the battlefield and she’d wanted so badly to be like him.
If her father doubted her love, then maybe he’d never noticed any of it. Maybe the love had been an unnoticed phantasm, a shadow, a song sung to a deaf man. Maybe all that love had been nothing at all.
A storm was on the horizon, and it reached her just as she made it onto the highway. Lightning flashed and thunder rolled. Rain poured down and flooded the road. Before long, Coriander was hydroplaning. Frantically, she tried to remember what you were supposed to do when that happened. Pump the brakes? She tried. No use. Wasn’t there something different you did if the car had antilock brakes? Or was that for snow? What else, what else–
With a sickening crunch, her car hit the guardrail. No matter. Coriander’s thoughts were all frenzied and distant. She climbed out of the car and just started walking.
Coriander wandered beneath an angry sky on the great white plains of her father’s kingdom. The rain beat down hard, and within seconds she was soaked to the skin. The storm buffeted her long hair around her head. It tangled together into long, matted cords that hung limp down her back. Mud soiled her fine dress and splattered onto her face and hands. There was water in her lungs and it hurt to breathe. Oh, let me die here, Coriander thought. There’s nothing left for me, nothing at all. She kept walking.
.
When she opened her eyes, Coriander found herself in a dank gray loft. She was lying on a strange feather mattress.
She remained there a while, looking up at the rafters and wondering where she could be. She thought and felt, as it seemed, through a heavy and impenetrable mist; she was aware only of hunger and weakness and a dreadful chill (though she was all wrapped in blankets). She knew that a long time must have passed since she was fully aware, though she had a confused memory of wandering beside the highway in a thunderstorm, slowly going mad because—because— oh, there’d been something terrible in her dreams. Her father, shoulders drooping at his desk, and her sisters happily come into their inheritance, and she cast into exile—
She shuddered and sat up dizzily. “Oh, mercy,” she murmured. She hadn’t been dreaming.
She stumbled out of the loft down a narrow flight of stairs and came into a strange little room with a single window and a few shabby chairs. Still clinging to the rail, she heard a ruckus from nearby and then footsteps. A plump woman came running to her from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron and softly clucking at the state of her guest’s matted, tangled hair.
“Dear, dear,” said the woman. “Here’s my hand, if you’re still unsteady. That’s good, good. Don’t be afraid, child. I’m Katherine, and my husband is Folke. He found you collapsed by the goose-pond night before last. I’m she who dressed you—your fine gown was ruined, I’m afraid. Would you like some breakfast? There’s coffee on the counter, and we’ll have porridge in a minute if you’re patient.”
“Thank you,” Coriander rasped.
“Will you tell me your name, my dear?”
“I have no name. There’s nothing to tell.”
Katherine clicked her tongue. “That’s alright, no need to worry. Folke and I’ve been calling you Rush on account of your poor hair. I don’t know if you’ve seen yourself, but it looks a lot like river rushes. No, don’t get up. Here’s your breakfast, dear.”
There was indeed porridge, as Katherine had promised, served with cream and berries from the garden. Coriander ate hungrily and tasted very little. Then, when she was finished, the goodwife ushered her over to a sofa by the window and put a pillow beneath her head. Coriander thanked her, and promptly fell asleep.
.
She woke again around noon, with the pounding in her head much subsided. She woke feeling herself again, to visions of her father inches away and the sound of his voice cracking across her name.
Katherine was outside in the garden; Coriander could see her through the clouded window above her. She rose and, upon finding herself still in a borrowed nightgown, wrapped herself in a blanket to venture outside.
“Feeling better?” Katherine was kneeling in a patch of lavender, but she half rose when she heard the cottage door open.
“Much. Thank you, ma’am.
“No thanks necessary. Folke and I are ministers, of a kind. We keep this cottage for lost and wandering souls. You’re free to remain here with us for as long as you need.”
“Oh,” was all Coriander could think to say.
“You’ve been through a tempest, haven’t you? Are you well enough to tell me where you came from?”
Coriander shifted uncomfortably. “I’m from nowhere,” she said. “I have nothing.”
“You don’t owe me your story, child. I should like to hear it, but it will keep till you’re ready. Now, why don’t you put on some proper clothes and come help me with this weeding.”
.
Coriander remained at the cottage with Katherine and her husband Folke for a week, then a fortnight. She slept in the loft and rose with the sun to help Folke herd the geese to the pond. After, Coriander would return and see what needed doing around the cottage. She liked helping Katherine in the garden.
The grass turned gold and the geese’s thick winter down began to come in. Coriander’s river-rush hair proved itself unsalvageable. She spent hours trying to untangle it, first with a hairbrush, then with a fine-tooth comb and a bottle of conditioner, and eventually even with honey and olive oil (a home remedy that Folke said his mother used to use). So, at last, Coriander surrendered to the inevitable and gave Katherine permission to cut it off. One night, by the yellow light of the bare bulb that hung over the kitchen table, Katherine draped a towel over Coriander’s shoulders and tufts of gold went falling to the floor all round her.
“I’m here because I failed at love,” she managed to tell the couple at last, when her sorrows began to feel more distant. “I loved my father, and he knew it not.”
Folke and Katherine still called her Rush. She didn’t correct them. Coriander was the name her parents gave her. It was the name her father had called her when she was six and racing down the stairs to meet him when he came home from Europe, and at ten when she showed him the new song she’d learned to play on the harp. She’d been Cor when she brought her first boyfriend home and Cori the first time she shadowed him at court. Coriander, Coriander, when she came home from college the first time and he’d hugged her with bruising strength. Her strong, powerful father.
As she seasoned a pot of soup for supper, she wondered if he understood yet what she’d meant when she called him salt in her food.
.
Coriander had been living with Katherine and Folke for two years, and it was a morning just like any other. She was in the kitchen brewing a pot of coffee when Folke tossed the newspaper on the table and started rummaging in the fridge for his orange juice. “Looks like the old king’s sick again,” he commented casually. Coriander froze.
She raced to the table and seized hold of the paper. There, above the fold, big black letters said, KING ADMITTED TO HOSPITAL FOR EMERGENCY TREATMENT. There was a picture of her father, looking older than she’d ever seen him. Her knees went wobbly and then suddenly the room was sideways.
Strong arms caught her and hauled her upright. “What’s wrong, Rush?”
“What if he dies,” she choked out. “What if he dies and I never got to tell him?”
She looked up into Folke’s puzzled face, and then the whole sorry story came tumbling out.
When she was through, Katherine (who had come downstairs sometime between salt and the storm) took hold of her hand and kissed it. “Bless you, dear,” she said. “I never would have guessed. Maybe it’s best that you’ve both had some time to think things over.”
Katherine shook her head. “But don’t you think…?”
“Yes?”
“Well, don’t you think he should have known that I loved him? I shouldn’t have needed to say it. He’s my father. He’s the king.”
Katherine replied briskly, as though the answer should have been obvious. “He’s only human, child, for all that he might wear a crown; he’s not omniscient. Why didn’t you tell your father what he wanted to hear?”
“I didn’t want to flatter him,” said Coriander. “That was all. I wanted to be right in what I said.”
The goodwife clucked softly. “Oh dear. Don’t you know that sometimes, it’s more important to be kind than to be right?”
.
In her leave-taking, Coriander tried to tell Katherine and Folke how grateful she was to them, but they wouldn’t let her. They bought her a bus ticket and sent her on her way towards King’s City with plenty of provisions. Two days later, Coriander stood on the back steps of one of the palace outbuildings with her little carpetbag clutched in her hands.
Stuffing down the fear of being recognized, Coriander squared her shoulders and hoped they looked as strong as her father’s. She rapped on the door, and presently a maid came and opened it. The maid glanced Coriander up and down, but after a moment it was clear that her disguise held. With all her long hair shorn off, she must have looked like any other girl come in off the street.
“I’m here about a job,” said Coriander. “My name’s Rush.”
.
The king's chambers were half-lit when Coriander brought him his supper, dressed in her servants’ apparel. He grunted when she knocked and gestured with a cane towards his bedside table. His hair was snow-white and he was sitting in bed with his work spread across a lap-desk. His motions were very slow.
Coriander wanted to cry, seeing her father like that. Yet somehow, she managed to school her face. Like he would, she kept telling herself. Stoically, she put down the supper tray, then stepped back out into the hallway.
It was several minutes more before the king was ready to eat. Coriander heard papers being shuffled, probably filed in those same manilla folders her father had always used. In the hall, Coriander felt the seconds lengthen. She steeled herself for the moment she knew was coming, when the king would call out in irritation, “Girl! What's the matter with my food? Why hasn’t it got any taste?”
When that moment came, all would be made right. Coriander would go into the room and taste his food. “Why,” she would say, with a look of complete innocence, “It seems the kitchen forgot to salt it!” She imagined how her father’s face would change when he finally understood. My daughter always loved me, he would say.
Soon, soon. It would happen soon. Any second now.
The moment never came. Instead, the floor creaked, followed by the rough sound of a cane striking the floor. The door opened, and then the king was there, his mighty shoulders shaking. “Coriander,” he whispered.
“Dad. You know me?”
“Of course.”
“Then you understand now?”
The king’s wrinkled brow knit. “Understand about the salt? Of course, I do. It wasn't such a clever riddle. There was surely no need to ruin my supper with a demonstration.”
Coriander gaped at him. She'd expected questions, explanations, maybe apologies for sending her away. She'd never imagined this.
She wanted very badly to seize her father and demand answers, but then she looked, really looked, at the way he was leaning on his cane. The king was barely upright; his white head was bent low. Her questions would hold until she'd helped her father back into his room.
“If you knew what I meant–by saying you were like salt in my food– then why did you tell me to go?” she asked once they were situated back in the royal quarters.
Idly, the king picked at his unseasoned food. “I shouldn’t have done that. Forgive me, Coriander. My anger and hurt got the better of me, and it has brought me much grief. I never expected you to stay away for so long.”
Coriander nodded slowly. Her father's words had always carried such fierce authority. She'd never thought to question if he really meant what he’d said to her.
“As for the salt,” continued the king, "Is it so wrong that an old man should want to hear his daughters say ‘I love you' before he dies?”
Coriander rolled the words around in her head, trying to make sense of them. Then, with a sudden mewling sound from her throat, she managed to say, “That's really all you wanted?”
“That's all. I am old, Cor, and we've spoken too little of love in our house.” He took another bite of his unsalted supper. His hand shook. “That was my failing, I suppose. Perhaps if I’d said it, you girls would have thought to say it back.”
“But father!” gasped Coriander, “That’s not right. We've always known we loved one another! We've shown it a thousand ways. Why, I've spent the last year cataloging them in my head, and I've still not even scratched the surface!”
The king sighed. “Perhaps you will understand when your time comes. I knew, and yet I didn't. What can you really call a thing you’ve never named? How do you know it exists? Perhaps all the love I thought I knew was only a figment.”
“But that’s what I’ve been afraid of all this time,” Coriander bit back. “How could you doubt? If it was real at all– how could you doubt?”
The king’s weathered face grew still. His eyes fell shut and he squeezed them. “Death is close to me, child. A small measure of reassurance is not so very much to ask.”
.
Coriander slept in her old rooms that night. None of it had changed. When she woke the next morning, for a moment she remembered nothing of the last two years.
She breakfasted in the garden with her father, who came down the steps in a chair-lift. “Coriander,” he murmured. “I half-thought I dreamed you last night.”
“I’m here, Dad,” she replied. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Slowly, the king reached out with one withered hand and caressed Coriander's cheek. Then, his fingers drifted up to what remained of her hair. He ruffled it, then gently tugged on a tuft the way he'd used to playfully tug her long braid when she was a girl.
“I love you,” he said.
“That was always an I love you, wasn’t it?” replied Coriander. “My hair.”
The king nodded. “Yes, I think it was.”
So Coriander reached out and gently tugged the white hairs of his beard. “You too,” she whispered.
.
“Why salt?” The king was sitting by the fire in his rooms wrapped in two blankets. Coriander was with him, enduring the sweltering heat of the room without complaint.
She frowned. “You like honesty. We have that in common. I was trying to be honest–accurate–to avoid false flattery.”
The king tugged at the outer blanket, saying nothing. His lips thinned and his eyes dropped to his lap. Coriander wished they wouldn’t. She wished they would hold to hers, steely and ready for combat as they always used to be.
“Would it really have been false?” the king said at last. “Was there no other honest way to say it? Only salt?”
Coriander wanted to deny it, to give speech to the depth and breadth of her love, but once again words failed her. “It was my fault,” she said. “I didn’t know how to heave my heart into my throat.” She still didn’t, for all she wanted to.
.
When the doctor left, the king was almost too tired to talk. His words came slowly, slurred at the edges and disconnected, like drops of water from a leaky faucet.
Still, Coriander could tell that he had something to say. She waited patiently as his lips and tongue struggled to form the words. “Love you… so… much… You… and… your sisters… Don’t… worry… if you… can’t…say…how…much. I… know.”
It was all effort. The king sat back when he was finished. Something was still spasming in his throat, and Coriander wanted to cry.
“I’m glad you know,” she said. “I’m glad. But I still want to tell you.”
Love was effort. If her father wanted words, she would give him words. True words. Kind words. She would try…
“I love you like salt in my food. You're desperately important to me, and you've always been there, and I don't know what I'll do without you. I don’t want to lose you. And I love you like the soil in a garden. Like rain in the spring. Like a hero. You have the strongest shoulders of anyone I know, and all I ever wanted was to be like you…”
A warm smile spread across the old king’s face. His eyes drifted shut.
#inklingschallenge#theme: storge#story: complete#inklings challenge#leah stories#OKAY. SO#i spend so much time thinking about king lear. i think i've said before that it's my favorite shakespeare play. it is not close#and one of the hills i will die on is that cordelia was not in the right when she refused to flatter her dad#like. obviously he's definitely not in the right either. the love test was a screwed up way to make sure his kids loved him#he shouldn't have tied their inheritances into it. he DEFINITELY shouldn't have kicked cordelia out when she refused to play#but like. Cordelia. there is no good reason not to tell your elderly dad how much you love him#and okay obviously lear is my starting point but the same applies to the meat loves salt princess#your dad wants you to tell him you love him. there is no good reason to turn it into a riddle. you had other options#and honestly it kinda bothers me when people read cordelia/the princess as though she's perfectly virtuous#she's very human and definitely beats out the cruel sisters but she's definitely not aspirational. she's not to be emulated#at the end of the day both the fairytale and the play are about failures in storge#at happens when it's there and you can't tell. when it's not and you think it is. when you think you know someone's heart and you just don'#hey! that's a thing that happens all the time between parents and children. especially loving past each other and speaking different langua#so the challenge i set myself with this story was: can i retell the fairytale in such a way that the princess is unambiguously in the wrong#and in service of that the king has to get softened so his errors don't overshadow hers#anyway. thank you for coming to my TED talk#i've been thinking about this story since the challenge was announced but i wrote the whole thing last night after the super bowl#got it in under the wire! yay!#also! the whole 'modern setting that conflicts with the fairytale language' is supposed to be in the style of modern shakespeare adaptation#no idea if it worked but i had a lot of fun with it#pontifications and creations
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wyll (as a warrior cat)
#my art#bg3#baldurs gate 3#baldurs gate fanart#wyll ravengard#DO U GUYS KNOW HOW MUCH I LIKE WYLL. do u know how normal i am about him.#i wish he had as much content as the other characters in game. bc if you think about it he should have the *most* amount of content#he has direct ties to the gate so therefore hed be the most compelled to help save it#hes already a hero by the time u meet him. hes got the coolest character introduction and hes genuinely a good person#and by more content i dont want a single bit of it to be revolving around mizora. im so serious.#if that cant happen. if she HAS to be around. then let him make his own choices in act 3 and thats all ill say to avoid spoilers#what i wouldnt do for more wyll content </3#but yeah rant over i love wyll so much hes one of my most favorite characters Ever#OH YEAH REGARDING HIM AS A WARRIOR CAT LMFAO idk how his sending stone eye would work so ummmmm. pretend the cats know how to source#really smooth rocks for prosthetic eyes. i also didnt know what to do for his horns so i just. drew him Before the horns bc i genuinely don#know what to do LOL but yeah i love wyll a normal amount i think about him a normal amount#OH YEAH I FORGOT TO MENTION THIS i was so torn between having him be a burmese and a ticked tabby so i kiiiiinda went for something in the#middle but i opted more for ticked tabby
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#also I love how Armando was able to pick up on Marcela's misogyny even tho he kinda was misogynistic too in other ways#because that man knew betty did nothing wrong and marcela just hates her for being a woman
@supercool-here
there's other examples of his own misogyny when it comes to how he treats his affairs with women but the most interesting one is how he treats betty when the panama fabric deal discussion happens.
it's very much a precursor to the plan. armando is frantic for materials and mario's solution is a seller in panama but betty is warning armando every step of the way and he chooses not to listen to her. every single time she's tries to explain the danger or offer alternatives, mario interrupts them and armando doesn't let her finish. when she insists that at the very least the materials need to be nationalized, he later says 'betty they're gonna get nationalized just like you wanted'---as a weak attempt to say 'look, i listened to one thing now stop whining'. And then later, when he and mario are alone, mario's like 'betty's not on board' and armando says 'well it's not her problem'.
the woman he's depended on for everything up until that moment and its at the most crucial moment that he pushes her out in favor of mario. just like he chooses to believe mario that betty will betray him even tho betty has shown her loyalty time and time again.
we know later that the panama deal will become her problem bc he makes it so by having her embargo him. had he just listened to betty about the dangers of mario's suggestion and trusted her, they wouldn't have lost all that money.
#ysblf#supercool-here#he doesn't hate women i would argue he likes them too much#but this scene in particular is very him saying 'well what does she know? she just has to do what i say'#which is also how don hermes treats her but that is a different post im working on so lets not dig deeper right now
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Ugh..narrator...
#slay princess spoilers in these tags alex don readdd#i should be sleeping rn but while i was work i couldnt stop thinking abt#how much i feel like the narrator relates to me in how ocd affects me#hes not just afraid of change hes afraid of possibility. but thats not what he thinks hes afraid of he justifies his fear as#wanting to protect the world from seein death ever again#but in truth he wants to kill the embodiment of change itself#my mind is hazy but like i can get it because so many times i just hope that#things just stop#because i think abt so many possibilities so bad that it hurts me a lot#only thinking about the bad possibitilies and the good possibilities never go through my mind#i think so much abt everything that could happen if i do anything that i try my best at avoiding it#and if i fall into not doing it feels empty and stagnant#its safe but it feels really bad and i feel bad abt my fear#and thats what the narrator wants for the full scope of the world cos he thinks that will be better for everyone#dont get me wrong hes very wrong lol but hes so human at the same time#it only gets more clear by his nightmare where he describes that every good moment in life is a short omen for something horrible to happen#next#thats so ocd to me man “oh fuck this is too good something bad will happen”#bitch should have gone to therapy instead of trapping the gods of reality itself trapped in a torture bubble lol#or he should have played satbk#sonic is always right#also i get a lot of ocd vibes from the cage but its slightly different#she thinks she already knows whats going to happen and doesnt try to test another possibility#the only way to save her is to prove to her that what she thinks will happen isnt set in stone. she cant know what will happen#even if her past trauma feels like enough proof that things will be the same- she cant know...#also how she thinks her body is acting on its own and that it has nothing to do with her but it does she just cant see it#cage....#also i love how she comes from prisoner. because prisoner is actually very reasonable in her distrust of you but she believes that her plan#will work#but it doesnt and it turns into the trsuma that turns her in cage cos every worry feels like its the truth
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Continuing my Felix becomes Argos early AU (which I'm currently referring to myself as the Early Bird AU not sure if I'm keeping the name officially)
Seeing as one of his main (and likely only) goals for attending DuPont is to look after Adrien, he very much steps in to remind Marinette (and potentially later on the rest of the Akuma Class), after he (Adrien) suggests they take the high road when it comes to Lila lying, that Adrien isn't her boyfriend. He is not her keeper. She doesn't have to agree with him. But fuck her if she drags his cousin under the bus because she can't get over a silly little crush and has that affect whether or not she can actually disagree with him. If she wanted to go with it, fine, but she should have laid her own terms. Like if Lila does something drastic, she's going to tell someone, an adult she can trust to do the right thing. Or if Lila doesn't stop soon, even with the more minor lies, she's going to say something. And for love of everything, actually get evidence before you say shit because you're just sounding like a bitch whenever you say Lila's lying with no proof.
Marinette: BUT THEY AREN'T PROVING SHE'S TELLING THE TRUTH EITHER!
Felix: THAT ISN'T THEIR JOB!!
Felix: Literally no one but her has claimed she was telling the truth as far as we know. We all just think her stories are interesting and considering this class, what with Miss I'm The Mayor's Daughter, my cousin the Famous Model, MX. I Live in a Museum and YOU, Miss I Actually Have Connections But I'm Too Humble About It And Don't Wanna Brag, is it really hard to believe what Lila says?
Marinette: But, it's not fair that I have to-
Felix: Have to what? Back up your claims? Yes. It is fair. BECAUSE YOU'RE THE ONE MAKING THEM!!
Marinette: Felix.
Felix: Marinette.
Felix: Listen, like I said, I'm just here for Adrien. And for whatever reason, he likes you and wants to be your friend.
Marinette:...
Felix: And I'm not going to stop him from being your friend. But if he gets hurt, just because you can't get a clear head when he says something to you, when he suggests something you don't agree with, I don't care what connections you have.
Felix: So, either come up with terms for the honestly very likely time the highroad comes to an end, or tell Adrien you can't take the highroad at all.
Felix: Do I make myself clear?
Marinette:...yeah. Yeah, okay. Give me a few days.
Felix: I'm giving you two at most.
Marinette: But-
Felix: I was going to give you until tonight. Would you prefer that?
Marinette: Ugh, no, fine...
Marinette:...it's hard to like you.
Felix: So I've been told.
Marinette: But I can't hate you, when...ughh, when I know you're right.
Marinette: I'll see if I can come up with any terms, and if I can't... I'll tell Adrien I can't take the highroad.
Felix: Good. I'll hold you to that.
#felix graham de vanily#miraculous au#like seriously felix is only here for adrien#he doesn't care about anyone else at dupont#and he's very much aware of what social cues adrien knows and doesn't know#he knows how adrien was taugh to deal with situations like the lila one#and that is: do not interfere at all if possible. just stand back and let someone else handle it. don't get dragged into it-#-and soil the family name.#it's not something he agrees with but he can't do much about it other than try to get adrien to see it's not a good thing to follow#and as i mentioned before he doesn't know where he stands with marinette#he can't tell if she'd be a good friend for adrien (what with her crush and again where the fuck did she get adrien's schedule?) or not#and he has a feeling she agreed to the highroad simply because she has a crush on his cousin#not because she agrees it's the best path to take#and felix isn't about to let her stupid little crush potentially hurt the only person in this school he cares about#and he isn't going to be nice about telling her these things#he's going to be blunt and mean and rude. she needs to know he's being serious about it and being nice#just won't get that message across for him personally. he has to lay it on thick for her to understand.#and she does eventually understand and tells adrien that she can't take the highroad. she can't stay quiet about what lila has said and don#but she also acknowledges that she's been digging herself into a hole and crying wolf#if she wants others to believe her she can't just use her words and hope that's enough. she has to find things to back her up.#and while she'd rather not#if she has to use her own connections#she will#in short: if felix isn't taking anyone's bullshit as argos he isn't taking anyone's bullshit as felix#his motto: fuck around and find out bitch#early bird au
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Hiii!! How are you??
I have a question, since you have a big brain- What do you think it means in chapter 235 (I Love Yoo) when Shin-ae thinks about Yeong-gi and the backgrownd goes from yellow to orange to red to black? I thought it was going to end with red as to mean "love", but black?? Is it because Yeong-gi is pushing Shin-ae away?
Hello, Nonny I am okay!!!! I've been a little distracted this last week but I'm doing well!!! :3
You are right about the colors! The background goes from yellow (caution) and slowly starts to warm up, until yes, we see the point, the moment when her feelings go from wariness and caution to trust, where her feelings begin to develop and become feelings of a whole other nature.
But it jumps from the moment she comes to trust him to the moment he is - very pointedly and literally - leaving her in the dark. Consider Shinae's feelings at that moment, when Nol blindfolds himself to hide his tears to hide his state of mind to hide his fears and insecurities and feelings. It leaves her so frustrated and hurt. He's literally left her in the dark. She doesn't understand why he won't show these parts of himself that she is so desperately hungry for to her. It's the moment that her feelings have really come to a head, too; all along they've been developing, brewing, slowly shifting from wariness to friendship to these feelings to want to want to want but in that moment she hasn't figured it out - not the moment when he hides himself from her and not this moment as she's talking about the feelings with Maya.
He's left her in the dark but she, too, is in the dark about her own feelings. What she feels about him now is so much more complex than it once was, full of so much want and need - to see him to know him to stay by his side (to have him[SCREAMS]) and she herself doesn't know what any of it means what she feels. It's left her confused and frustrated. Her feelings are simultaneously a series of comfort and trust but also feeling like crap and so the color is black, because in that moment what she's feeling isn't warmth, isn't comfort but instead frustration, feeling hurt, feeling like crap because he won't let her in.
#I Love Yoo#ILY Brainrot#ILY Anon#Shinae Yoo#Stalkyoo#Aegi#i love love love the sequence of the colors so much!!!!!#and seeing these moments from her view#there's something about how he is all that she sees that gets to me#his form is the only thing in her vision he takes up all of the space#seeing too the way his expressions change as the color does as HE ALSO warms up to her#to the point when HE leaves her in the dark#the way you just KNOW that Nol doing her make up at the formal must've been intimate as HELL esp given their relationship up to that point#Nol helping her to don her armor to help protect her in that place#how sheepish he looks how he looks so wary of getting in her personal space like that#but when we get to the last frame his eyes are hidden#she's in the dark and he's left her blind to how he feels#to what she wants#;A;#aaaaahhhhhhh it's SO good SOOOOO good!
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i'm out of steam again
#sighhh#couldnt find the original meme but whajever#juror 3#juror 4#12 angry jurors#12 angry men#??????#12 angry women#she wants her so bad it makes her look stupid#don;t like drawing 12 angry women as much because i never know how to colour their outfits#I HATE DRAWING JUROR 3 UPRIGHT STRAIGHT it always looks wrong.
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Gushing about Gojo and Megumi and how they are or could have been everything to me I forgot to mention that I really really really love Yuuji. Like, a lot
#His attempt at reaching out to Sukuna‚ saving him and living with him#and how we see can see here and there moments in which he tries to reason with him from the very beginning#is one of my favorite things in JJK#It moves me a lot. It fits Yuuji a lot#But it fits the constant theme in JJK about how curses and people are not that different so much as well#Yuuji in the conditions of his existence looks at himself and then regards Sukuna#and the difference he sees is a faint line between them drawn out of merely being... lucky. Lucky enough to have someone supporting you#So he asks. Over and over. Let's try. Let's try again. This time it can be right. I know you could love flowers and haiku and company#I know you fear death. I will keep you company in life. Let's try again#But Sukuna owns it like Tirso de Molina's Don Juan does#I don't know. I love Itadori a lot#Their dynamic is truly something else. I wish it could be better#Damn I guess I just don't like shonen. The potential is amazing but damn why is it so unsatisfactory#Talking about best potential ever but unsatisfactory sorry to gush over Megumi and Gojo again#but the apparent parallel between them is arriving me off the wall#Megumi's mention to how it's the three of them reminded me of Gojo's similar comment to Ijichi and Shoko when he learnt Nanami had died#I live for these things. I wish there was enough to actually sustain me#I talk too much#I should probably delete this later#Also Gojo found her mother. She said she didn't care but he did. Just in case I suppose?#Perhaps to give her the chance if she did care after all. And I don't know. I don't know. I guess... This is it. This is why I love him#Despite everything he does care. And does take care of things. In his way. Uncouth. Weird. Irresponsibly. But he does#And Megumi laughs#Despite how his world crumbled he laughs. Because of something he wrote. Because of Gojo keeping his promise#In the worst most absurd Gojo way possible. But there he is. Taking care of it as he said he would. Telling him about it#And Megumi laughs. Because that's just so Gojo. Megumi laughs. And it's a sight to behold#And this is it. This is what Gojo could have been. What he was. But the glimpse of what could have been sooo deep when it comes to Megumi#And this is why I love him and them so much. And why the undeveloped potential breaks my ribs so severely#They could have been everything to me! They could have been everything at all! One of the dynamics ever!#Even if it had been nothing! Even in the nothingness! For the nothingness itself. Like the nothingness of this letter! Perfect example
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theres smth very funny abt american trans people bein the ones 2 always dictate how a trans person Should express themselves n how much effort they Should put into their ideal gender presentation. like sweetie i don wanna die an untimely death!
#most times i wanna pass. i wanna pass as Somethin. whether it b man or woman in their eyes#but i don wanna pass as trans. i don wanna wear dat on my sleeve. which as ya can guess is even harder for someone who is alrdy 'out'#of the norm#we wer victim of transphobia even before we consciously tried to pass or even knew wat trans is#well. transphobia & intersexism. but not like they know the difference#idk. ithought americans have it rough too. so why they all up in arms abt how much facial hair a trans woman can n cant have?#not everyone can afford to transition. both in the sense of money n safety. N DAT ASIDE!#a woman can look like anythin. a woman with a beard is still a woman. to deny dat is both transphobic n intersexist#but also is jus misogynistic. there r cis women with beards there r cis women with features most ppl think theyll only ever see on a cis man#i will never answer policing others trans bodies n trans identities with anythin else than hostility. get fucked!!!!#this is very aimed at a specific trans woman on twitter idk her tweet disgusted me#(it was a photo of another trans woman who either 1) in the closet 2) very recently realised 3) completely comfortable in her presentation#stayin da same. n she hit us w the 'if ya don put in the work then ya cant call yrself a woman' like please eat cement. thankya
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weekly dunmesh ep post here to say that as one of the eps that didn't follow their usual formula I loved this one to bits 😭 pacing felt just right, didn't feel that rushed to me (tho maybe that's bc I kept goin back to watch more details lol) and the canaries and yaads voices in sub are all really really good
#i fucking loved pattadols voice WAHHH and i love how shes draw in the anime.. perfect girl#i think the only voices that didnt immediately click w me were otta and cithis'. they felt too high-pitched or too soft spoken respectively#but i think i can get used to them#also toshiro looking sm better w just a simple shave is getting to me.. his interactions w namar tickle me good..#the egg convo back to touden party had me go 'oh no' but then i realized we werent at that part of the anime yet BUT STILL. WDYM WE'RE#ALREADY AT THE GOLDEN CITY!!! THAAT FELT LIKE IT TOOK LONER. WHEN I READ THE MANGA!!!#i cant talk about everything i loved about this ep but shout out to senshi when he was doing you know exactly what im talkin about.#if i were a gay maan i think my reaction to that wouldve been marcille spitting her food out#PEAK MARCILLE EXPRESSIONS THIS EP BTW. CUTE CATGIRL IZU. LAOIS FREAK MINOTAUR EXCITEMENT. KEEP THAT TO YOURSELF CHUCKLEFUCK#the short impromptu 'pillow fight'#ahhh i just love them so much#but also its goin so fast 😭😭😭 don want my dunmesh thursday to eend so soon wahhh crazy that theyve been herefor almot half a year#i speaku#ALMOST FORGOT BUT PATTIES LIL FAIRY 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥺🥺🥺🥺 so cute that it makes u forget that its made out of [redacted]
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doa5 is in my possession now… feels strange having it in my collection of ps4 games…
#shallow rambles#AND JUST when I’m playing doa6 that’s so funny#Curious to see how much of a difference between the two are. I don know that some characters are significantly#Nerfed in doa6 compared to doa5. Like momiji was the fastest in the cast and they cut her speed down in doa6 apparently#also hitomi got nerfed in doa6 too apparently?!! Which is strange because she feels like a genuine top tier character competitively.#doatecposting
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do we think if i texted her 'i really miss you' the next time i get tipsy shell take me back
#in reality it just increases my chances of getting blocke don every single platofrm#but then theres that small dumb part of my brain that says shel tell em how much she regerts everythig and wants me back#the only reason im even suggesting it is cuz i KNOW she saw me on the bus today cuz in the window reflection#i saw her friend pout and rub her shoulder. so maybe she does feel as terrible as i do#and for this reason i would like to text her and beg her to take me back
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#ooc || [out of character]#neya just confessed to utsuho and here's me cringing so hard you can hear it from space. I think the pairing could be cute but at this#particular point in time we've barely spent enough time with these two for me to be sold on them being a thing. also she has better#chemistry with yakuma and more interactions. I know its technically been months for them but because of the pacing in general#there's not much downtime or filler to have like decent character interactions. I just think the confession should've come later or#not at all. but me & jade were talking about it & iinuma was probs just pressed for time and the editors or whoever probably#said hey we need some romance with the mc so do smth about it. cause that's how thrown together this feels#also utusho has been so standoffish and at times rude as hell. like neya girl stand up!!! you can do better babes#also she does this @ the end of ch 51. she joins the gang at the end of ch 21. within the span of exactly 30 chs they've only been travelin#together for maybe 3 months at most. sure that's a decent amount of time to spend with a person and acquire feelings#but they don' thave ANY significant interactions during that time to push this ship and its all essentially one sided on NEya's part cause#Utsuho cares more about Pochi and doing his own thing. Iinuma just doesn't sell this for me. not their fault but mmm def my least fave#neya ship. and all the ships I DO fancy with her all their development & interactions happen off screen *stares pointedly at Hikae*#i was so ready for Neya and Hikae to have a life changing field trip together or smth since she's does not vibe with him at awl when they#first meet and he's so antagonistic and snarky with her. then like 20+ chs later he's talking about 'oh yeah ne-chan I wanna protect u too'#excusse me?????!!! since WHEN!??? and we don't ever know cause it all happens off screen!#utsuho rightfully awkward turtles away after that confession cause same dude#yakuma also tell her she like confessed suddenly without really thinking. like she only did it cause of utsuho's interaction with kazura#so she's like alright I'll work on showing him my true feelings and I'm like or maybe we just... don't????#rereading itsuwaribito was a mistake cause I have so many thoughts and I keep trying to apply logic when I shouldn't be#i talk too much in my tags I'm sorry 😔
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Sure, I complain about sophia a lot and yeah it's dangerous to say these things about your boss, especially in writing on the internet, but honestly, I really think she should know how awful she is at running a business so
#i don't know#i mean i just worry about invoicing clients too much#also i don't like how accounting and taxation is her entire world and she thinks that everyone else including the clients would agree and#like sure the only certainties in life are death and taxes and Carlton winning premierships but the majority of people don't care about tax#idk though i could be wrong#tax is a necessary evil#which lumps accountants in with the evil that is the tax office#but in sophia's mind accountants are the most important people in society#also sophia thinks small businesses are the epitome of the economy#sophia is don angel#if sophia drove a car it would be a range rover#she'd ring me up from the car dealership and be like 'what's the invoices like' and I'll be like 'single digit growth' and
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imagine you’re dating ghost and no one knows. the two of you have kept it a secret on your end and his just for your protection— because ghost knows what could happen if someone finds out, how someone might try and target you to get to him, or worse, given his line of work.
but then imagine that he’s on a mission, interrogating some piece of filth ready to decorate the fucking wall with his brain matter when the guy says “you know what, simon, killing me would be the biggest mistake of your life.”
immediately ghost would pause, eyes narrowed, though his hardened demeanour wouldn’t fade much, he’d just blankly stare at the prick like “oh yea? n’ why don’ you tell m’ why.”
the shit-eating grin that would crawl across that fuckers lips would have ghost ready to kill him right then and there, but then he’d say “reach in my pocket. pull out my phone.”
id like to think ghost would have absolutely none of this assholes bullshit, not at all entertained by his theatrics. i’d like to think he’d just press the muzzle of his gun to the fuckers temple within an instant, all teeth barred and ready to get it over with when the guy would add,
“your girlfriend is a fucking beauty, isn’t she?”
everything would pause. ghost, time, the world, air, the universe itself—the life that would drain from ghosts face would almost be enough to make his alias a reality. his heart pounding in his throat, his fingers fucking trembling as he immediately reached into the assholes pocket to find his phone—a picture of a woman tied up (face not in view however) lighting up on the home screen. there’d be no thinking rationally, no thoughts in ghosts head except for making sure you were fucking okay. he’d do whatever he’d have to do, kill the guy, leave him strapped there, whatever—he’d be out of that room in two seconds flat and personally flying the helicopter back to your house calling you nonstop every fucking second until you answered.
“hello? si?”
he’d wait a second before answering. taking everything in. background noises, the inflection of your voice. it sounds calm, maybe too calm? he’s grasping his phone so fucking hard it’s a miracle it hasn’t shattered between his fingers.
“princess,” he breathes, fighting with everything in him to keep his voice steady. “see any birds today?”
though it was a genuine question, it also was an established one. ghost had set up a series of questions for a situation precisely like this. if you said blue jay, it meant you were fine, at home, as usual. if you said crows, it meant you weren’t.
“oh just the usual blue jays, si.” he could almost hear the smile on your lips. “everything okay? i miss you.”
ghost would exhale a shattered breath. “i’m coming home.”
and then he’d show up, not all but a few hours later, hands still trembling slightly, heart rate still struggling to regulate. it was too much, reminding him too much of his past traumas, he knew he needed to find better protection for you, but that was a conversation for another time.
he’d come in the house, barely even taking the time to shut the door behind him, almost frenzied again, relentless, unable to relax until he could finally lay eyes on you. and then, the second he did, he’d just pause and look at you, all messy hair and pyjamas still on, in the kitchen cooking breakfast for you both since you knew he was on his way.
and he wouldn’t say a goddamn word, he’d just come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist, hugging you so tight you’d hardly be able to breathe, his face buried in your hair and his heart thumping at your back. you’d feel the pain the fear the anxiety radiating off him and you wouldn’t try to say anything because you knew he needed this, you knew he needed to see you, hold you, feel your pulse stable and alive. you knew he just needed a moment to breathe.
and so the two of you would stand there like that for a while, and then he’d take a big inhale and spin you around to face him, pulling up his mask to plant soft kisses on your jaw.
“i love you so fuckin’ much.”
#simon riley imagine#simon riley cod#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley#simon ghost x you#simonriley#simon riley#simon#simon riley call of duty#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley smut#simonrileysmut#ghost smut#simon ghost smut#ghost riley#ghost#ghost cod#task force 141#taskforce141
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